


like this, like this

by luminarai



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 12:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10571568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminarai/pseuds/luminarai
Summary: Like this, like this, Rumi sings. Dizzee lets it go.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I still have so many feelings about part 2 that I have no idea what to do about so here's something I wrote about part 1 instead

There are flashing lights around them and so, so many people but in that moment Dizzee can only focus on the way Thor’s eyes, bright and deep, cut directly into his skin and expose something hidden, hungry and trembling. Dizzee feels like he might explode. It’s like going too long without something in his hands, an itch that travels from his hands to claw at his chest, wanting to burst out in a spill of color and guts and meaning.

Normally, he can paint it out, bright colors on dull walls. Right now, Dizzee doesn’t want to paint. Something pulses in him – _like this _, it hums.__

____

____

Thor is so close Dizzee can count his eyelashes, observe how light flickers across his irises. And his lips, god; do all white boys have lips like this? Pink, plush, the echo of a smile in the corner. Dizzee can hear his own heartbeat thud above the music.

They’re so close. Thor is still staring and Dizzee has to close his eyes. It only makes the hungry thing grow inside him. Rumi, he thinks, desperate to take over. And oh, how Dizzee wants to let it happen. He wants to let go and leave his entire being in the clever hands of this beautiful, strange boy who looks at him like he makes sense.

Most days, Dizzee isn’t even sure he makes sense to himself, much less anyone else. It’s addictive. 

He feels Thor’s nose against his, knocking gently and adjusting and then the softest press of lips on his own. Dizzee’s breath catches, releases and then seems to not matter at all. He would never need air again, he thinks intently, as long as he could have this. 

Dizzee tilts his head and fits their mouths together. Thor gasps against him when Dizzee’s tongue brushes against his own. Immediately, Dizzee wants to make him do it again. 

Dizzee has kissed girls before, a few. Girls are pretty, they’re soft and they smell nice. Dizzee likes kissing girls. 

Thor smells like sweat, like boy, and Dizzee has teenage brothers, both biological and not. He knows the smell of teenage boy sweat and it’s never made his stomach twist like this, made electricity rush under his skin and make him thicken in his jeans. 

He can feel the slight rasp of stubble where Thor has missed a small patch on his cheek shaving and it’s such a daring, magnificent contrast to the softness of their lips together. He sucks Thor’s lower lip briefly into his mouth and the sound Thor makes is lost to the music around them. 

Dizzee feels irrationally jealous for a second. He wants to claim the sound, wants to claim all of Thor’s sounds, his soft looks and the hushed quality to his voice when it’s just the two of them together. Immediately after, he feels ashamed – who is he to lay claim to another human being – but then they separate. Dizzee open his eyes and Thor is still looking into him, eyes turned black, heavy, and Dizzee thinks he doesn’t want to own; he wants to belong. To have Thor belong to him, and himself to Thor. 

_Like this, like this _, Rumi sings.__

____

____

Terror and exhilaration run side by side through him at the thought. 

But then, like something greater than him was listening in on his thoughts, his sister’s song hits the turntable. It’s like the fear falls away under the rising promise of Mylene’s voice. He lets it go.

He isn’t sure how long they’ve danced for when Thor draws him away from the dancefloor. They’re sweating buckets and Dizzee’s throat is parched. The party is still going, but like Thor seems knows everyone here, he also knows when it’s time to go. 

In the doorway, the Beautiful Girl who kissed him earlier, who kissed Thor and who was just now kissing another girl, pulls him in for a hug. A part of Dizzee wonders how she would ever want to kiss anyone else when she’s kissed Thor. But maybe, to her, kissing Thor feels like how kissing girls feels to Dizzee. 

She smiles at him, a little wild and very free, clearly still feeling the effects of whatever she took earlier. Dizzee, to his own surprise, feels decidedly sober – but he's high and light in the best way. Like he could take a step up and just float away. 

The night outside only feels like relief on their skin for a second. The air is thick and sticky from the New York summer. Dizzee hauls in lungful after lungful of air but he doesn’t come down, can barely feel his feet touch the ground beneath them. 

Out here, where they can hear the sirens in the distance and the rest of the world is only thin bedroom walls away, the silence between them feels fragile. Dizzee is afraid of ripping it, of damaging and ruining this absolutely revolutionary feeling of freedom that clings to his lips in the slightest taste of Thor’s mouth.

They’re turning a corner into a neighborhood that Dizzee only slightly recognizes when it hits him. 

“Like this,” he breathes. Thor turns his head and a shiver travels down Dizzee’s spine. Thor’s lips are red and bruised. I did that, Dizzee thinks. His heart seems to be in every part of his body, pumping in his cheeks, fingers, knees.

“What?”

“It’s,” Dizzee swallows against the dryness of his throat. “It’s a poem. Rumi. Uh.” In a sudden rush of courage he would never have thought he had, Dizzee continues, “If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead, don’t try to explain the miracle. Kiss me on the lips. Like this. Like this.” 

Thor stops. He’s framed in the yellow lamplight behind him but it doesn’t wash him out. He looks golden, his hair a tangled halo around his head, unreal. And he looks at Dizzee like he’s watching a dream turn into real life. 

Seemingly in the same motion, Thor steps forward and Dizzee reaches out, and they come together. Closer, Thor tugging at the shirt at Dizzee’s sides, Dizzee’s hand through Thor’s damp hair, closer still.

The second kiss feels different than the first, sweeter. Better. The third, in close succession, even better than the second. Dizzee forgets to check the streets around them but once again someone seems to keep an eye out for him; the narrow street stays quiet. They stay close. 

Dizzee steps back to lean against the worn down brick wall behind him, dragging Thor with him. Thor doesn’t protest, just slides down to press nipping kisses along Dizzee’s jaw before returning to his mouth. They press together with the full length of their bodies. Dizzee rests his hands on Thor’s broad chest to feel the thunder beneath his shirt. The heaviness and solidity of his body feels like it was made to rest against Dizzee’s narrower, more corded frame. 

How can Zeke put this into words? Dizzee would barely be able to put it into shapes and colors, he thinks. He’d like to try tough. 

Thor pulls back an inch and smiles brilliantly. “Like this,” he murmurs, close enough that their lips brush again. 

Dizzee smiles a sweet, joyful kiss into his mouth. “Like this,” he agrees.


End file.
